June, June

‘’How are you feeling, June?’’, Minnie asked as she caressed the white gown with her hands. June dared not to break her sister’s kind spirit, for Minnie was far more feverish than her. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, the virtuous sister had spent the last weeks being a docile daughter, making all kinds of arrangements so June wouldn’t have to. June, on the other hand, would have preferred to make the arrangements herself, for she hated favors and benevolence, it made her feel like a slave. June much rather preferred being independent and making her own way in the world. 

‘’Thank you. I feel most comfortable.’’ The tight textile around her waist made June feel as though she couldn’t breathe, and she looked far from elegant or proper in the ill-fitting white gown. June was not in good humor, the thought of the golden circle around her finger this time tomorrow dimmed her wits even farther. 

‘’June, promise you will be prim tomorrow. I would be most disappointed if you acted upon your...usual nature.’’ Minnie didn’t elaborate, for they both knew what Minnie was speaking of. June could do with being taught the art of holding one’s tongue. She knew no greater joy than the world of novels and poems, only perhaps the great bliss she felt when jumping around nature, wrenching and dirtying her dresses. 

‘’Don’t worry, I will be.’’ Minnie looked remedied and released the tension from her shoulders. 

‘’I only now read a fantastic book about a young girl, most like me. She never married either.’’

‘’June, you mustn’t read these books, as they are wrong and you know it makes dad cross when you speak of not being a fair wife.’’

‘’I’m aware. That’s why I told you, and not father. You know I would rather die a most bloody death if it meant I didn’t have to marry anyone. I don’t see myself being a good wife, or a loving mother. I just don’t, Minnie. I’m so tired of people thinking that marriage is all I am fit for, all because I wear dresses and not trousers. I am capable of so much more. You know it! I’m not patient, I’m not kind, I’m not caring, and I am most certainly not fit to be the mother of children.’’

‘’Now June, don’t forget the labour that goes into home happiness. Children will fall sick, husbands become unsatisfied, the house becomes dirty, almost every day. All needs attending to. It can be most arduous! A good wife needs not be tenderly loving and affectionate, but passionate and ambitious as you are.’’, Minnie cried with an anguished face, her hands busy braiding June’s hair. Their arguments felt rehearsed, the discussion was like an orchestra, for they have held it so many times prior. 

‘’Minnie, I'm not ambitious for home happiness! I long to be independent, to make my own mon- Ouch! must you pull my hair this way? - to make my own money!’’. Minnie refrained from responding, and so June was left looking grimmly into the mirror. In the dress her mother chose, about to say ‘’yes’’ to the man her father chose. But, she was given the choice of hair, which Minnie ended up making for her. June ought not to be dissatisfied, for Minnie had a talented hand for hair. When she finally let the diligently constructed braid fall along June’s neck, it was only fair that June eyed it with rapturous wondering. Her usually frizzy, untameable hair now looked presentable, the strands of hair clung around each other highlighting the different shades of blonde. 

Despite Minnie’s finest efforts, June felt ridiculous in the white frock. It made her appear more a sheep than a bride, and it evoked a disheartened feeling within her that she was a lamb before slaughter. 

At nighttime, the braid now released and the white dress put out of sight, June laid awake in what her family hoped to be the last night in their house. She could smell the soft summer air and hear the light breeze rustling through the leaves of the tree next to her window. There was no thought of sleep. With a resigned sigh, June lit a candle and took a novel she found most palatable, compared to the meager works she had read in school. Her eyes were racing across the pages, her mind embracing every word written on the thin yellow pages. It was a rather odd story, about a woman dressing up as a man to serve the military during the Revolutionary War. What should serve as a lesson for women to not go forth and repeat this faulty act, June only found her heart inspired and her mind enlightened by the genius of the story, real or not. One can only dream, thought June, wishing she could take the woman’s place. Oh how much merrier her pathetic life could be had she been a son to her father. She wouldn’t have to marry the Cookes' boy. 

June felt like cleansing her mind, purifying her heart from the one and only wish to go forth alone, forget all about it and become a wife, for she sternly believed that she could never be truly happy if she married. June couldn’t resist but to think that she had never been in control of her life. It was all a passive bearing of the expectations and decisions her parents had made for her, masked under the premise that she had a choice once the ‘’big things’’ were settled. For once, she was able to see right through that premise and look at the situation clear-eyed. What she was given was nothing. Once she was married to the Cookes’ boy and gave birth to his children, she would continue her pathetic livelihood in his house, the house she would only be a mere guest to, a necessity that needed to be there. It suddenly occurred, June wasn’t sure why exactly at this night, that she had never made the choice to marry and bear children, it was forced upon her with great violence and influence, so much so that June had never actively resisted. 

June felt a ball of jealousy and discomfiture rise to her throat, it made her face read and her eyes watery. She wished nothing more than to be as virtuous and dutiful as Minnie, to be a tenderly loving, soft spoken woman, but her blunt manners and strong would always got the best of her. June rocked around in bed, the book tossed on the floor, tears wetting her pillowcase. 

‘’No, I don't want to. Please be good. I can’t. I can’t’’, she whispered imploringly, choking with tears. She went back and forth, telling herself to be good and then crying as she told herself why she couldn’t. In an attempt to silence herself, she bit her palm, as no one ought to hear. They would think she had gone mad. People lived under the presumption women were too emotional, and June ought not to prove them right. She sat up and laid back down, opened the window just to close it, blew out the candle to light it again. 

She felt a discordia within her, a feeling that she was merely a living controversy. She had dreams of a happy house and family, only she felt that she would never be truly merry doing so. June was too headstrong, too temperamental to ever be happy doing so. She would have made for the most proper boy. 

In what we could only refer to as the german word Torschlusspanik, June made the final decision that she couldn’t go forth in this manner. 

The dreadful thing she began to do began weighing on her conscience the instant she forced the two opposing parts of the snipper together, and watched a frizzy strand of blonde drop onto the wooden floor. It was too late, for it would look rather queer walking around with parts of her hair missing. June took a deep breath and cut off the rest of her mane, uneven and bold. There was no denying her feminine face, but that didn’t take away from her confidence, as a stranger who saw her without a dress would not get to thinking that a woman hid behind the manly masquerade. 

Dusk had arisen, and June bothered not to take more than a bonnet to hide the hideous hair, and the few spare pennies she possessed, shoved carelessly into the invisible pockets of the dress she had put on. The dress was the last souvenir from her life, a simple blend of textile in green and white. June needed nothing more other than a pair of shoes to leave. She played with the thought of writing a quick note to Minnie, Mother, Father and the Cookes’ boy, but she thought it for the better if they knew nothing, if they could accept the fact that the black sheep had vanished for evermore and that they could confidently spend the rest of their life, seeking comfort in each other when they needed it- June trusted they wouldn’t. 

It was a warm summer morning, mid June, and June herself had never felt more in her element. It only seemed fair that this was the month she asserted control, that this was the month during which she was always meant to leave. June’s shoes were hurting her feet, the only remedy knowing that it would take a pair of men's clothing and a train ticket far North for her to be freed from her hurtful footwear and the chains she had lived with all her life. At first June felt unsure, she was nervous, her shoes were made for looking pretty, not for being practical, and after a long walk over cobblestone June thought she had sprained her ankle by now. 

June wished she didn’t have to act this way, she longed for her womanhood to be respected as a from of strength and not weakness, but she knew that it was only wishful thinking, her womanhood would always be a weight holding her down, and that she was much better off as a man. June didn’t feel a man, she only acted it, for deep inside her she wanted to be a woman, just not a housewife. June didn’t mean for her family to be left without a trace, but she had to free herself from the chains of not being able to make choices for herself. June was excited to wander alone, to explore the newfound freedom, to never touch a hairbrush in her life if she didn’t desire so. She wasn’t prim, she wasn’t proper, she wasn’t good. She was a girl in menswear who had left her family behind, but June neglected her conscience and focused on the sun slowly rising. She spent one last thought on the write frock, ultimately satisfied she would never lay eyes upon it again. The men’s shoes were able to withhold cobblestone much better, and June felt peaceful for the first time. 

In a sleepy town in Massachusetts, a man with blond hairs, who, strangely enough, reeked of femininity, sat down in his office chair, kicked his feet up and let out a deep sigh. 

‘’Good Morning, John. How are you?’’, a colleague cried from across the room. 

‘’Morning. Not too bad, for the fine weather keeps me cheery.’’, the man named John responded. 

‘’Right. It’s been a nice June.’’